Interrogation Tactics
by Marquesa de Santos
Summary: In which a villain-turned Robin Hood contracts cancer whilst playing with radioactive elements and a heroine falls into shades of gray. Red X/Raven. In-progress.
1. Chapter 1

**I have never published any Teen Titans fan fiction, not in any of my old accounts. Ever. Even though it was my very first fandom. It's such a pity the archives are dwindling down every day, so I decided to finally contribute. I am aware that this means I may not have many readers, but this is more for myself than anyone else. The Red-X/Raven archives are especially lacking. Please enjoy my little story.**

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Interrogation Tactics

Chapter One

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"And I have the sole honor of doing this because?" She raised an eyebrow as Starfire beamed down at her.

"Friend Raven, you are most glorious with children! And the boy looks frightened. I am afraid I am much too exuberant in my interrogations, and Robin is . . . far too intense."

"Yes, because I'm a shimmering rainbow of niceties." She had to admit, however, that Starfire had a point. Raven had a knack for children, as they'd discovered, and the others did not. She let out a puff of air.

"Alright. I'll do it."

Within moments Starfire had her in a bone-crushing embrace and Raven was choking.

It wasn't even an accident, anymore. Starfire seemed to take a perverse pleasure in (effortlessly) pressing the air from her friends' bodies. Raven's suspicion (knowledge) was confirmed at the sight of a smile tugging the alien's mouth upwards and the waves of mischief rolling off of her tall frame.

"You're incorrigible."

"I know not of what you speak, friend Raven."

"Mmhmm. I'm sure."

And with a push and a shove—always in the spirit of true sisterhood—the door clicked behind her and Raven faced a little boy who looked so calm, she had a difficult time consolidating it with the stench of nervousness in the grey room.

She almost jumped—almost, she had a reputation to maintain, after all—when his alto voice offered, "He said that I didn't have to be ascared of you guys."

"Oh? And who was that?"

"Well . . . can you keep a secret, miss?"

She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'll tell you what. We're the good guys. We really are here to help. Whoever this man is, he's right about one thing. As long as you're one of us, you've nothing to fear."

"But what if I'm not . . . he says stuff's not always black and white. Sometimes there are spades of grey."

Raven translated the meaning immediately and nodded in agreement. She was well-acquainted with shades of grey. "He's right. We're usually pretty good at discerning that . . . figuring it out," she amended at his puzzlement.

He looked around to confirm they were alone (it was an exercise in futility; the walls had ears and Raven felt a pang of guilt for it), before he nodded.

"We call him Robin Hood," he whispered, his arms straight on the table, his head leaning forward as far as possible with the intensity of his feeling. "Except he dresses all in a blackish red and all cool-like like a ninja with a skull mask. Like a . . . like a . . . a zombie ninja Robin Hood!" He was exuding awe from every pore, and she internally smirked. She had a feeling she knew exactly who this child's Robin Hood was, and so did their own Robin, if the way he was tensing in his seat in the video room was any indication.

"And why do you call him that?"

"Well, no one doesn't never not eat, no more," he cautioned.

There wasn't an insincere speck in the child's aura, and so she sent a wave of calm over her leader's agitating form. He blocked her. He'd gotten rather talented at that…

"So he helps out?"

"Yeah! I mean, we all gets food now. And he gots me these cool shoes. I was using duct tape on my old shoes and the water was making it really bad and pieces were all falling out of it. But then he gots me these. And he doesn't just help with the little things."

"He sounds like quite the hero." Sometimes it was fun to rile up their leader. She supposed it was tantamount to Star's love of crushing.

The child beamed. "He is! Except he kinda laughs when we tell him. Says the real heroes'll get mad. But the real heroes don't help us like he does, so momma calls him our very own neighborhood Titan. Except not even the real Titans can beat cancer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And she says that… actually I don't think I can tell you that." The nervousness was back; she leaned forward again, re-establishing the spirit of intimacy and secrecy she had created in the beginning, making her eyes as wide as possible.

And when she was certain she had his attention, she whispered "is Robin Hood saving someone from cancer?"

"No," he whispered back. "He's gonna beat it for 'imself."

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the kid, as he is loosely (largely) based off of Once Upon a Time's main character. All this adorableness? Not mine. But I will own X's alter-ego. **

**This was honestly going to be a one-shot, but it got away from me. It could stand alone, but it won't because the idea has spread into this long story. It may or may not be sad? I've yet to figure out the ending. Expect another chapter within the week.  
**

**This is dedicated to all those who are currently struggling with, have beaten, or have been lost to cancer. Especially my two biological grandmothers.**


	2. Chapter 2

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter Two

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Of course Robin had wanted a city-wide search of blah blah blah and Star had tried to calm him and Gar and Cy exacerbated the issue by talking about civil rights and letting the guy be and enough. Raven could not handle it.

"Hey, what's your name?" She asked, slipping into the interrogation room, away from the barrage of her friends' anger and annoyance and frustration.

"Henry Wood. But miss, I'm really really tired, and I don't wanna talk no more. Can I go home now?" His eyes were half-lidded, and Raven realized the kid must have been exhausted. According to him, he had just been trying to give the necklace back to the jewlery store (for all his hero worship, the child did not want a part in the theif's illegal activities), and she had the mind to believe him. Her eyes softened and she held her hand out to him.

"Of course, Henry. I'll take you."

And because Raven really needed a walk (soft summer breezes and the sound of her foot-steps as city life—beeping cars, sirens, children laughing, pigeons cooing—played its symphony around her was conducive to sorting out conflicting emotions), she let the boy lead her to his home.

If ever a place needed a Robin Hood, it was Port's End. This part of town was known for drugs, human trafficking, and a whole slew of human waste, to use Robin's words (he did not mean it like that, however callous it sounded). They never took any calls from this area, and it was for this reason Raven (and Gar and Cy and Star would too, if she knew) thought the cops had a cause for calling them glory seekers.

The truth was, however, that if they were going to try and stop every crime, they would never sleep. It was best to keep their skills to super villains, which made Robin's obsession with Red-X even more ridiculous. If they could go after him, why not stop human traffickers? He had said there was a difference, that Red-X was much more of a menace, but no one had believed it.

Not even Robin.

Henry's skipping pulled Raven out of her reverie, and she didn't even mind that he had gotten her to skip alongside him. Let them stare. At worst, there would be a headline tomorrow to the effect of "Dark Titan and Ghetto Child Skip Home." It'd give the likes of Dr. Light coronaries.

And somewhere between noting the brothels and the community centers and the prostitue on the street corner who couldnt have been older than twelve, something snapped.

Raven had an idea.

It was devious, and silly, and a far shot, but it was such an unjaded thought, and Raven was tired of hardness of heart.

"Henry, do you mind if I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure, miss! This is home, actually. I'll ask momma if you can come in. We have ice cream!" He stood on his toes and knocked thrice, concentration in his clear brown eyes.

"Oh, thank you, but I really can't have ice cream."

His face fell and Raven damned the sinking feeling in her heart. "But if you have tea, I'd be grateful for a mug."

"Okay!"

The door swung open and Henry was lifted into the arms of a woman with blonde curls, clutching him close as she admonished him for running off.

"Momma, this is Raven, and I told her we'd give her some tea." Raven's smile was apologetic.

"Oh. Well, sure, come on in." She put Henry down and he rushed into the kitchen. There was the sound of cutlery clanging and the sink turning on, and finally, a microwave. Not the way she usually took her tea, but she wouldn't refuse it.

Raven stepped through the door and schooled her features. It was a home, however dilapidated it might have been. Child-made drawings covered the walls with elementary school diplomas. Toys did not litter the floors, and Raven wasn't sure if it was because Henry didn't have that many toys, or because his mother had already put most of them away.

"Ms. Wood, I would like to leave a message for the local hero," Raven said.

The woman's arms crossed her chest, the palpable unease turning to pregnant hostility. "Yeah?"

"Yes. May I borrow a piece of paper?"

Henry popped in. "We gots peppermint. Izzat okay, miss?"

"It's perfect, thank you." He beamed and rushed back into the (tiny, she could see now) kitchen.

The two women stared at each other, one impassive, the other aggressive.

"He's a good person. He doesn't do things like you guys, but he does things for us you won't get your hands dirty with."

"I'm not questioning that. Nor am I threatening him."

"So what's this letter of yours going to say?"

Raven vaguely noted the sharp beep in the background and the sound of a microwave opening.

"I want to come to an understanding with him."

"Here miss!" Henry popped in. "I brought the tea and I made it just the way I like it. I hope you like it, too, because… you're nice." He beamed.

"Thank you, Henry, I'm sure it will be lovely."

It was all she could do to not choke. The child had turned it into a syrup; she felt she was drinking liquid cavities.

She swallowed it all in one go.

"Very good," she assured him, before turning back to the mother (who must have known exactly how Henry liked his tea because there was mischief in her eyes and she looked much younger). She offered a smile, and the tension eased.

"Mom, can I have ice cream?"

"Sure. Henry, grab me some paper and a pencil before."

He screwed his eyes shut, whispered "Yes!" and brought his fists down in victory. Ice cream was a big deal. He rushed over with paper and a pencil that was well loved, if the bite marks were any indication, depositing them on his mother's side of the table before he ran into the kitchen.

"This isn't a trick."

"Yeah. Whatever. Just write it."

"Thank you."

~oOo~

She didn't know if he would show, one week later. She sat in a café, wearing street clothes and a pink plaid scarf she secretly loved. It was how she'd told him to identify her, and thinking back, it seemed a bit ridiculous. But then, these clandestine meetings often were.

So when a not so young man with tanned olive skin and brilliant green eyes sat beside her (thirty minutes later), holding his own identifier (_Nicholas Nickleby_), she was more than a little confused.

"Hello, Sunshine."

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**Thanks to all who reviewed.  
**

**The pink scarf is one that can be seen on the Ann Taylor Loft website. It's gorgeous. Comes in blue, too. I love it so much. I'm shamelessly advertising. It's okay.  
**

**A big shout out to little GlidingOne for looking over this. She's as excited as anyone, dear girl, and it's wonderful to have my sister as my beta.**


	3. Chapter 3

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter Three

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"I was beginning to think you weren't coming." She quirked her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side. Body language was important when attempts at a parlay were underway. "What made you so sure it wasn't a trap?"

"You in a pink scarf? I had to come, even if it was a scam," he winked, all ease and smiles.

This was not what she had expected.

An accent.

One that the mask had effectively hidden.

Besides that, he was older, old enough that laugh lines settled deep near his eyes. Wiry, a little on the short side, but he moved as though he were aware of all his muscles.

"Funny, but that isn't the real reason you came," her features remained flat.

A barista came and brought a bowl of lentil soup Raven had ordered. The young man ordered a café au lait and waited for the woman to leave before shrugging and answering. "If the Titans had tried to lure me into a trap, they would've used the princess. Or at least not have sent you in a pink scarf, yes?" He smirked. "And it wouldn't have been on a scrapped piece of paper."

On cue, a ripped up piece of notebook paper, smudged and crinkled and completely unacceptable, fluttered from the book as he threw it with a plop on the table.

_X,_

_I want to meet. Find me at the Drunken Monkey Monday night at 7. I'll be wearing a pink scarf. Bring _Nicholas Nickleby_._

_Raven_

She pursed her lips as she examined her hasty hand-writing. "You're late."

"Only thirty minutes, Sunshine," and there was the dazzling smile the crinkles in his eyes had promised, drowning out the soft chatter around them.

She blinked, and the clatter of silverware returned to her ears.

Pleasantries out of the way, Raven decided to go with the rip-the-bandage-off-quickly approach and had been about to speak when he began, "Nice place. You come here often?"

"Yes."

"Ever been to karaoke night?" Apparently, he frequented more than she did.

The disgruntled look on her face must have given him all the answer he needed; a belly laugh escaped from his slight figure. "Live a little, Sunshine. Otherwise there's no point to all of this.

"I'm here to talk about your alter ego." The line of her mouth was hard. She did not like to be laughed at.

He shook his head with all the grace of a cat, his shoulders shrugging in the process. "X is off limits today."

"I wasn't talking about X."

That got his attention, and he tensed.

"You are not pinning anything else on me."

She ignored him. "Robin Hood is a flattering sort of title, wouldn't you say?"

"What?"

"Well, Henry was pretty vocal about you being Robin Hood." She leveled his gaze with her own.

He was quiet, preening, a ghost of a smile in his eyes, daring her to continue.

"I've a proposition to make."

He caught the double entendre, his eyes sparkling, but made no comment, merely cocking his head toward her.

"You know of the human trafficking ring in this city?"

"Yes," it was clipped. The warmth he had been emanating was ripped out from under them like the proverbial rug, and storm clouds loomed behind his eyes. She felt unsteady.

"I want to infiltrate it. We're a port city, and it's getting worse." The anger was so strong she felt she was choking, and so she stopped explaining.

"It's a fantastic idea," he spit.

"Then why are you so pissed off?"

He unclenched fingers that neither had noticed were gripping the table and took a breath, his face relaxing in the café's muted yellow lights.

"Touchy subject."

_Obviously_, she internalized.

After a breath, the anger had retreated behind whatever walls he had erected. "I like the idea. So is that what this is? Me teaming up with the Titans? I tend to do things solo."

"Not really. More like you teaming up with me."

Maybe it was the jazz. The smell of coffee. The warm lentil soup.. The humidity, even. But the way he looked at her made her feel as though she had never quite been looked at before. As if he were the first person to see her. It was a bit unsettling.

"I'm game." No hesitation, though the intensity did not leave his eyes.

Well.

That was a little off.

She cleared her throat and plowed on. "I just have a few rules."

"I'm sure you do, Sunshine."

"First of which being do not call me 'Sunshine.'"

"I object."

"What?"

"I can't call you Raven, if we're going to do this. You're a little bit conspicuous, what with the blue hair and the jewel. Chakra, right? It's too loud; you're too loud. By the way, you do realize that all this has a hell of a lot more to do with espionage than heroics, right? This won't be the usual wham bam whatever it is you guys do. It requires finesse." He caressed the last word, but it did little to hide the anger that had seeped through, tinged with frustrated and something else… it was only a wisp, and she couldn't quite give whatever it was a name.

Oh.

Derision.

She was stung but held her façade.

"Of course I realize."

"Who's being dishonest now?" He quirked his eyebrow.

They were interrupted by a barista, a different one, as she put the mug down. "Haven't seen you here for ages, Cãe. You got it all sorted out?"

"Not yet, Lu. Mas agora não, linda. Os negócios..." His eyes flitted to the hero in front of him as 'Lu' winked, muttering something Raven did not catch.

"Portuguese?" Raven asked.

"Yes." His brilliant green eyes were smiling. "You speak?"

"No… Kai?" She asked again, curious.

"Cãetano. But yes, please call me Cãe. And you?"

"I'm afraid it really is Raven."

He nodded, pensive for a moment. That name would have to go. "So what's with the scarf? Pink doesn't seem to be your thing."

"Star got it for me as a gag gift. I ended up liking it."

~oOo~

Raven had ended up back in the tower, hiding the giddiness and nervousness and excitement.

She was feeling everything.

Like she could save the world.

This would be the first of many meetings, she was sure, during which they would scheme and plan and make a real difference. She restrained the urge to skip as she knocked on the door to Cyborg's room.

"Yo, Rae. You're sure in a good mood. What's up?" He noted her smile.

"I was wondering if you could procure a few cancer-ridden rats for me."

"You mean lab-rats. With cancer."

"That is what I said. Just don't let anyone know."

Cyborg nodded sagely.

"Especially not Gar," she added as peals of laughter emanated from the room.

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**Alright, so here is this one. I felt it took longer to update… I'm really more into Once Upon a Time than I am the Titans right now, but this is too fun.**

**Translation: "But not now, beautiful. Business…" is what that little line of Portuguese is.**

**Alright. On to matters of humility.**

**I need to make an apology to AstheWindBlows. I (now) understand this individual did not refuse to review. Life got in the way. I apologize for the slander. The comment made in the last chapter has been removed, and was made in bad taste. I am so sorry.**

**The list has been removed. It's silly. I've thought it over, and really I'm glad people enjoy this enough to alert and favorite. Thank you for reading. **

**And remember. Reviews are like red bras. They give one confidence and support.**


	4. Chapter 4

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter Four

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She had not expected it to be easy, but she had not expected this level of regret either.

"Friend Raven, are you sure?"

She had been sure for weeks, planning this moment for the past month. "Yeah. I just need a little bit of down time. It's getting to be… demanding." She shrugged. She had contemplated telling them she was going under cover—it would not have been a lie, after all—but then they would ask why, with whom had she planned it, didn't she think it was too dangerous to do it by herself, etc. She certainly could not tell them it had been Red X's idea.

Except now, with their faces intent and focused upon her own, she was not so sure.

This was dangerous.

No powers save a glamour of sorts, and not even that if X had his way.

"How long?"

"Could be permanent." Better to lower expectations than to leave them unrealistically hopeful of her unlikely return. She continued, "This is my two weeks notice."

And Star cried.

~oOo~

"Dude. Why's she leaving? I thought we were her family. Fuck, man, why's she leaving?"

Cy was pensive, chopping the potatoes for his hearty beef stew—one he knew Garfield would not even pretend to try, but for the moment, the green Titan was going through a bit of a crisis.

"She asked me for lab rats the other day."

"What?"

"Wanted them to have cancer. I don't know, Gar. Maybe she's just… her healing powers heal damage. As in, they make cells divide faster than they would. Like cancer. And so, it's like, what if cancer's the only thing her body can't fix?"

The word's sunk in. "You mean you think she… you think she's sick." Gar was met with silence, and did not notice when Cyborg substituted out the beef in favor of tofu.

~oOo~

It was only their second face-to-face meeting, Raven realized. It was nearing two months since they had started this ridiculous correspondence, continuing through secure email accounts, never mentioning names or aliases, and she had only seen him once. So when those light green eyes suddenly met her in that little wooden nook they had established in the café, she stifled the (certainly understandable) chill that was trying to play the xylophones on her spine.

"Hello, Cãe."

"Hello, Rae."

She found she didn't mind overmuch when he said it. It fit this ridiculous little world that was now to be her own.

"So I gave my two weeks notice yesterday."

"How'd bird boy take it?"

She frowned. "They're my friends. They…" She swallowed to dislodge the choke that had suddenly found itself there. "They're the closest thing I have to family. And he's like my overprotective big brother." Suddenly she felt blood threaten to rise to her face.

"We have a bond." It sounded far too silly, she knew.

Cãe almost spit out his café au lait, laughing, his eyes so very merry. "Is that so, princessa?"

"It has to do with my empathy. We're close. Closing that connection will be painful." She was glaring, realizing for the first time how painful it _would_ be. "Like losing a limb."

He steepled his fingers, eyes suddenly focused. "You don't have to."

"But I do. I mean… my mom wasn't a victim of human trafficking. Not in the traditional sense. But my father owned her, in the every sense of the word, and…" She had said too much. But his eyes were understanding.

"Do you have any hand to hand combat training? I mean, I've seen you in action, and you're not bad. But can you do that without your powers?"

She shrugged, mimicking his graceful gesture. "Both. It adds more bite to my punch, but Robin taught me actual martial arts. Except…" and she looked up. "That thing you do where you almost only fight with your legs and you leave your hands free to do other things, like fight the rest of us. I have no upper body strength, and I think that would be better than the technique Robin has been teaching me."

He perked up. "Capoeira."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a Brazilian martial art. But it's not the same without music. I'll teach you." Another reminder that six months would be spent developing their covers, training, teaching, and learning. Together. And for her, trying to find a way to use her powers against cancer.

She had already found that her healing powers were ineffective at best, making the cancer progress much faster than it should have. It had taken her three weeks to come to the conclusion that if she _could_ heal cancer, her traditional healing powers would not do at all. Going for the untraditional, she had practiced opening dimensions inside the little lab rats, just enough to eat away at the cancer. So far, she had sent three rats to three different dimensions inside out, and her contacts in these dimensions had not been happy. The King-Father Glanhanor of the Flormaxians, a rodent-like race, had seen it as an omen of evil and attack, and Raven had had to wipe the memories of the entire world to prevent inter-dimensional warfare.

It had been a trying two months.

She shook herself from her reverie. "Capoeira." She tried, her tongue tripping on the word. It had sounded better when he had said it.

When the meeting had come to an end and he stood, helping her out of her chair, she could not help but notice he seemed a bit thinner than the last time she had seen him.

~oOo~

She felt horrible, she really did. It was not fair in the slightest. "Hey, Cy?" She whispered, knocking against his door.

It opened and he looked down at her. "Yeah, Rae?" His brotherly affection was hard to take right now, it really was, and she could feel how concerned he was. She would miss him.

"I need more of those rats."

"Sure thing, hon." Well, that was new. He picked her up and held her tight (something else that was new), and she almost cried. What the hell was she doing?

She opened her mouth to speak as he set her down, but he shook his head. "We trust you. And know that no matter what, this is your home. It will always be your home. You'll always be welcome, okay?" She nodded, feeling tearful, and slithered back to her room. She felt slimy. Like a snake.

In thirteen days, she would be leaving them. She almost changed her mind a million times that night alone, but then the sound of the lab rats (those few she hadn't killed or turned inside out on an inter-dimensional journey) reminded her of startling green eyes against tan skin, and a smooth voice, and more than anything, keeping people sold like so many trinkets from being as afraid as her mother had been. And for the children of those terror-filled unions. The wee creatures, born against a woman's wishes, unwanted, unbeloved. Raven could relate all too well.

~oOo~

"Friend? Friend Raven, awaken. I wish to spend time with you."

Raven acquiesced in the most begrudging of manners, but she owed them. They were her friends, damnit, her family, and if Star wanted to go shopping, then so be it.

* * *

**Only one more setting up/filler chapter before it starts getting fun. But this was so fun to write! I can't wait for more Cae, and the whole plot of this to really get into the swing of things.**

**There will be more family fluffiness, because its fun. Let me know if you have any suggestions!**

**And… I promise to stop being a spoiled brat. It's been an awful six months, 2012 has been the year of such woe, I know not what to do. And… I've found myself becoming giddy at the site of an email telling me someone has favorited or alerted or reviewed. Really, I'm glad so many people are enjoying this story.**

**Also, I was ill, tipsy, and getting over a bad day of work when writing this chapter. I edited a lot, but some things may have slipped? I apologize. **

**Tchau!**


	5. Chapter 5

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter Five

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The past two weeks had gone by far too quickly, and surprisingly without incident. There were the goodbyes, of course. Numerous shopping trips with Star, a visit to every vegan café in the city with Gar, a very intense chess game with Robin, and of course, Cy's unfailing support had all followed in the wake of her announcement. She had no idea what he had said (though she knew it had something to do with him), but the air of suspicion faded after the first few days, replaced with one of aching sorrow and compassion and _pity_.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that last one, or what could possibly have been said for them to feel such a thing for her, but she supposed it was better than the anger and the confusion and distrust that had briefly colored the tower.

But she had slipped out in the dead of night, tucking her valuables—including the mountain of shopping bags she had accrued—into a dimension she used to store such things. Two weeks of goodbyes were wearing on her, and she didn't have the heart to face another day of it. Instead, she had taken yesterday's "Goodbye Raven" party with all the grace she could muster and left a note on the table of the common room.

She stubbed her toe (she knew there was a reason for hating flip flops, but this entire outfit was her sad attempt to move through the city unnoticed and she had figured flip flops would aid in her disguise) and let out a muffled grunt. The intake of breath was loud in the otherwise silent room and she puffed out her cheeks. Teleporting would be so much easier, but the infernal man was right. She needed to learn to stop relying so much on her powers.

But surely not this very second.

She shrugged, feeling very naughty indeed, and teleported herself halfway to the rendezvous point. He'd never know. She could not have said when she started to care about his opinion of her.

~oOo~

"Olá, cigana"

"What?"

"That scarf makes you look like a gypsy."

Oh. Well, she supposed the hint of orange and pink and purple (and the tassels) might give that impression.

"Cigana means gypsy, then."

That smile. It should have been illegal for anyone to own such a smile.

She flicked her wrists and her hair changed from purple to black. He started as she explained, "The purple hair is a glamour I used. This is the natural color." Her mouth curved upwards at his nod of approval.

"Come on, cigana. I'll take you home."

* * *

**I know, horribly short. Well, the next one will be longer and you'll get some more substance. Sorry for the longer update period. Life got worse. C'est la vie.**

**Also, look up the scarf. No lie. Ann Taylor LOFT website. That scarf is incredible and makes my life.**

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter 6

* * *

It was not, she noted, the same neighborhood in which he had become patron saint. Oddly suburban, quiet in the night as yellow street-lamps illuminated what should have been in shadow, she realized, with a start, that it was unassuming and safe.

She glanced up at the man who was shattering all her preconceptions.

When his clanging keys opened the door to a light blue and modestly sized home, she understood. The soft pitter-patter of little feet greeted them immediately after he had locked the door behind them, and a small girl with shining strawberry curls and Cãe's cheery green eyes catapulted her way into his arms.

"Papai, papai!" She began, before breaking into flawless English. "Why did you leave! You woke me up and I was all alone and João was on the phone and said he stole Barbie." She pouted, furrowing her eyebrows up at him as she curled tiny fists into his shirt. Her expression morphed comically into one of surprise and curiosity. "Daddy, who's that? Is she like João's mamãe? Is she my tia?"

He laughed and kissed her forehead, setting her down as she continued peering at Raven.

"Rachel, this is Tia Raven."

Rachel squealed in delight. "Our names are almost the same!"

Still gathering her bearings, Raven replied, "Yes. Do your friends call you Rae?"

"Sometimes. They call me Rae-Rae more. Do they call you Rae? Because then our nicknames are the same thing the whole way, not like our real names." She scrunched her nose, looking hopefully up at the dark Titan.

"They do," she laughed, squatting down. "They even call me Rae-Rae sometimes. How old are you?"

"Four and a half. How old are you?"

"That's enough, young lady," Cãe interrupted, sweeping the child into his arms, turning her upside down as she squirmed and righted herself. "You're not supposed to ask how old ladies are, and you need to get into bed." He hoisted her into one arm as she crossed her chubby limbs across her chest.

"But I don't wanna go to bed. No, no daddy, not the claw!" She shrieked as her father's hand curved and he grinned menacingly. She wriggled out of his arms and ran, shouting and giggling, breathless. "I'll go night-night! I'll go night-night!" He chased after her, leaving Raven befuddled in his front hallway. She gingerly made her way after them, hearing the laughter and shouts, processing the information. She suddenly wanted to cry, feeling too out of place and as though she had intruded.

Red X had cancer. And he had a daughter.

She found the living room and all but slumped into a couch, her thoughts in a whirlwind as she focused on a large blue forest painting. It was three dimensional, and the frame itself looked as through someone had twisted the wood to emulate the crashing of waves in the heart of the sea. Her eyes caught unto something miniscule, and she stood, stepping forward for a better look. She could make out a tiny woman and man side by side, holding hands as a tinier girl played with a puppy. It was oddly intricate for something so small surrounded by something so large, and that the focus should be hidden by mammoth trees was startling. She stepped back a few paces and the family disappeared into a canvas of blue. She leaned forward and there they were. The warmth the tiny blue family radiated drew some of the chill from her heart as she shook her head and sat back down.

She had to act quickly. She had been somewhat successful in curing two rats with the dimensional tactic, but it was 2 out of 30. With odds like that, she could not begin to think of going forward with it any time soon. She needed more practice. She needed to be sure she wouldn't kill him in trying to heal him. Because now there was another life involved, a shining brilliant baby girl who was very obviously the apple of her father's eye.

A rustling sound moved her from her thoughts as he spoke. "She likes you."

Raven shrugged. "Most kids do."

His laughter was warm and rich, breaching the gap as he sat near her. His expression changed, though, storminess again visible. "Her mother was taken. Elise was taken and she fought and they killed her." She was startled, but the quiet intensity of his voice compelled her squelch her surprise. So this was why he was doing this... The unexpected openness left Raven silent, pensive, before she decided to change the subject.

"She seems happy. Rachel does, I mean." His face took on a softer glow as he leaned back on the brown leather couch, his hands behind his head.

He sprang up and offered his hand to hers. "Come. I'll show you your room. We'll start training tomorrow, yes?" Raven took his hand and nodded, her throat thick with unshed tears. She couldn't help but look back at the painting, pondering the origins of the family therein as he held unto her hand the whole way to her room.

* * *

**Papai means daddy. **

**Mamãe means mommy.**

**Tia means aunt.**

**Another short chapter, I know, but so soon after the other I thought it would be forgiven. **

**The painting herein described is one that a little known Brazilian painter, Belchior (he sold some of his work to ****Pelé****), sold to my family at a huge discount. He's a family friend, and I wish my description could give the painting some justice. It's lovely. We've had it all my life, and when I was 12, I found the family in the middle of it. My parents had owned it since before I was born, and no one had noticed. It was like a birthday surprise, or something.**

**I can't find any information on him online, but I have the newspaper article with Pel****é buying one of his paintings, so… oh well.**

**I hope you enjoyed this. It's been in my head for a while and this chapter was so fun to write.**


	7. Chapter 7

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter 7

* * *

"Raven. Raven, you need to wake up now." There was a whispering of cerulean fabric as Rachel crawled to the head of the bed. "Tia. Ti-tia. Wake up!"

One purple eye opened to find green ones peering in, and Raven pounced. Perhaps tickle wars are not very fair when one of the participants is telekinetic, but Rachel didn't seem to mind.

"Ah ha, ha ha, tia, para, stop! Ah hahahaha! Daddy! Daddy!" Chubby fingers reached to move over Raven's abdomen as the child twisted on the sheets. Raven felt more than heard him coming into the room, and there was that booming laughter.

Rachel rolled from her position and off the bed, a chubby finger pointing at a silk-pajama clad Raven. "Tia started it. I promise."

"I did," Raven offered, lifting her hands up in surrender as Cãe quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Vai comer, Rachel."

"Food!" She squealed, rushing off through the door.

He caressed an auburn curl as she dashed by him, a sun-dappled vision in pink, and he smirked. "Breakfast, and then training. I suggest something comfortable. Preferably not a leotard." He winked, flashing white teeth.

~oOo~

So much food. Coffee and eggs and bread and cheeses and cold meats and too much food was piled unto a wooden square table. She would not eat much of it, but the variety was overwhelming; it almost felt like home, but for the lack of vegan options. The kitchen was homier than the one in the Tower, she decided, a cherry wood making up the cabinets and the countertop consisting of golden granite. The walls were a cool gray, and it went surprisingly well with the other colors. Like the rest of the home, paintings and clocks covered the walls.

"Daddy said he's going to teach you capoeira! So eat lotsa protein, because otherwise you'll get tired." Rachel nodded sagely, putting a mug of tea in front of the older girl.

Raven knew this, of course, but thanked the child all the same. Robin had been the one to first convince her to have eggs on training days, despite her protests. Whole wheat bread, too, and though it was almost too much for her stomach to handle, the energy this afforded her was invaluable. She opted for this meal, and was about to sit with her wares when Rachel tugged on her sweat-pant leg.

"I wanna sit next to tia Raven." She obliged her, and the little girl continued, "Does João have to come, daddy?"

"Be nice. You need a partner."

"But Raven can be my partner! He took my swimmy Barbie! He is super mean. I don't like him." The glower. That glower. Raven took a bite of her egg to keep from smiling. The child leaned on her, sighing heavily. "Can't we just say we already have someone visiting?" In the sunlight, the girl's hair changed colors, as though it were a living thing. Raven was suddenly stricken with how similar it was to Starfire's hair; this distressed her to no end.

"No. You and João are going to train, and I'm going to teach tia. It isn't fair to make her train with you when she doesn't know what she's doing." He wagged a butter-dripping spatula at her and she giggled. "Fine."

Raven made quick work of the food and started putting the dishes into the sink when Cãe placed a hand on her wrist.

"You and Rachel start warming up. She'll take you to the training room."

Raven nodded, feeling out of her element—not for the first time—as Rachel grasped her hand. The Titan noted the child had opted to wear a tight shirt and was grateful she had done the same. With all the handstands she had seen Red-X do, she had figured she would need something clingy up top.

Upon arriving at the training room, having been dragged by a very determined redhead the entire way, she noted it was simple, its earth tones calming and padded walls harmless.

"Okay, so we need to stretch. Do you know any fun stretches, tia?"

"Why don't you show me?"

"Okay!"

The little one was surprisingly dexterous, though she didn't know why she should expect anything less of Red X's daughter. Raven was momentarily distracted when she heard a doorbell, but Rachel had her twisting in a peculiar position before she could give it much thought. By the end of the warm up, Raven felt the pleasant hum of blood in her palms, under her skin, the awareness. When Cãe entered, a little boy trailed him with a worshipping look in his eyes. Raven swallowed when she realized he was sporting a bare chest.

"Alright, so we know who everyone's partner is, right?" Cãe chirped as the two children moaned, facing each other.

"Yessir!" Rachel and João grumbled, beginning to dance around each other. Raven would have been content to just look at them, but then Cãe was moving into a position.

"We start with the basics. Left leg back, like you're lunging," he demonstrated as she mimicked his movement. "Good. Right arm up, but don't let it cover your eyes. Left arm back like this." His arm was horizontal in front of his body, under his chin, while his other arm jutted from the back, palm flat against the air. He reached out a hand to lower her own before returning to his pervious stance.

"Good; now there's a transition. Left leg moves to the side, and eventually, you'll end up switching places." He coaxed, swinging his left leg to the side and then forward, his right leg moving back, his arms exchanging place. She followed, her movements awkward.

"It feels like a weird dance."

"It sort of is. The ginga is the basic step."

"Jeenga?"

"Yeah. Capoeira is, in many ways, dance. Traditionally, at least. Not too many use it for actual fights. Rachel, ligue a música." The girl hop-skipped away from João and went to a corner. Percussion filled the room, and a deep voice began, followed by a mixed chorus of sorts. It sounded like an African call song, but the language was decidedly Romance.

"Like this," he began, and it really did look like a dance as he spoke above the music. "Every step originates from this one. Not so awkward, Sunshine, just let the music move you." He was moving in tandem with her steps, the driving beat making his eyes shine. She was lost in those eyes, and suddenly he was behind her, moving her body to better accommodate the rhythm. "Yeah, you're getting it," he encouraged; his voice hoarse in her ear, making her heart pound. She could feel his muscles against her back, and it took a few minutes for her mind to let go of that and focus on getting the ginga right. He stayed behind her, making her shift against him; his leg pushing hers forward, his hands covering her own as he moved her. It felt like an eternity before he let her go and began to circle her, encouraging her to follow his movements. The basic steps never changed. "Don't stop moving! It's key; keep your body flowing."

The day was spent in this way, and by 1 o'clock in the afternoon, she was breathless, her face red from exertion, her body liquid and aching. They had worked on handstands and cartwheels as well, and though she could do them very well, she found that slowing her movements down was difficult beyond belief. She knew she would be sore the next day, and Rachel clambering up her back to catch a piggy-back ride back to the kitchen did not help.

"The shower is down that way," her host motioned. "The first door on the right. Towels are in your room. We'll start working on our covers after lunch?" She nodded, kneeling so the girl could clamber off her back, and tried not to trudge to her room.

She was grateful for the warm water sliding off her skin, washing away the sweat and the worst of her aches.

* * *

**Translations:**

**para: stop**

**vai comer: Go eat**

**ligue a música: turn on the music**

**How I originally got the idea for a brazilian Red X: every time I watched X and Robin in a particularly intense fight scene, it reminded me so much of capoeira. I can't find any video clips to confirm this, but just go on youtube and watch two people doing capoeira. Can't you see Robin and X doing this? Delusional? Possibly. But anyways. I liked it. So there. Also, a super long chapter. Eesh. This is the longest chapter I've written for anything, longer than most of my one-shots. Almost 1400 words! Part of it was I watched a capoeira tutorial to better explain the movements. I've seen it, but I've never done it. Hurrah for research!**

**Thanks for all the encouragement everyone! I was so worried that making him not American (or Russian. Lots of people make him Russian, I feel.) would turn everybody off to Cãe, but it hasn't seemed to. Leave behind feedback, let me know what you think, and I hope you had as much fun with this as I did.**


	8. Chapter 8

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter 8

* * *

Raven was unaccustomed to so much physical activity. The Titans had two training days a week, with pizza and battles sprinkled throughout. There was, surprisingly, quite a bit of down time. No such regimen with Red X. He was strict. Three hours of training every day, and then however long he thought appropriate spent developing her cover, and fuck, even the healing (of the lab rats, of course) was taking its toll on her. Healing hadn't drained her since she was _nine_.

Raven was exhausted. She had known hard work, had known days of sitting and meditating while fasting, when her backside would begin to lose feeling and her stomach howled with hunger. The monks had told her that once she learned how to properly meditate, she wouldn't feel the hunger, wouldn't feel the numbness. The first few years of her life _had_ been hard work, but this was stretching her beyond breaking point.

There was Rachel, small and sweet and tough as nails, but very spoiled. Cãe had a word for it: mimada. It was, of course, Portuguese, and meant "much-loved." It was perfect for Rachel, and Raven found herself thinking "que coisa mimada" on more than one occasion. But even though Rachel would graciously take Raven's exhausted "Not right now, sweetheart. I'm not feeling up to it," Raven felt guilty, and Rachel had no qualms ever about asking. She could ask for the world and shrug when someone said no. Her philosophy was that "well, the worst thing that can happen is someone says no. The best thing is they say yes. If I don't ask, I won't get it anyways."

It was smart, but then, Rachel was pretty damn precocious in everything she did. And Raven couldn't say no all the time, really, she couldn't, and surely agreeing to a piggy back ride every now and then wouldn't kill her, would it? If she'd thought Rachel had Red-X wrapped around her little finger, then the child had Raven wrapped around… it was a sign of exhaustion past what was healthy that Raven couldn't even begin to finish that thought.

More than anything, it was the cover that depleted her reserves. Cãe had told her in no uncertain terms that he would not compromise her safety by allowing her to be trafficked, no matter how controlled she said she could keep the environment. She had thought it oddly sentimental and told him so, and he had answered that no one in his right mind would sacrifice a queen for a pawn. She hadn't known what to make of that.

She especially did not know what to make of all the touching in the training sessions. Capoeira had been bad enough, but then he'd told her of her need to be a socialite, at least in the underground (they'd decided she'd be a madame of sorts), and that had begotten dancing lessons. Dancing should not be allowed to be so sexy. But it was. Samba especially, with his legs in between hers and the sometimes slow, sometimes fast pace. This was not ballroom samba to be sure, it was real and authentic and hot and sweaty. It took Raven approximately four weeks to realize that her attraction to him had turned into a full blown crush, and she was two parts angry and three parts defeated. The rest of her was kept occupied by trying to keep treacherous body parts under control.

He was a grieving widower with a daughter, and he was suffering from cancer, and instead of trying to save him, she was nursing a schoolgirl crush. But Raven was only twenty, and had never had a childhood (that wasn't an excuse, none of them had had childhoods except for maybe Beast Boy, and even that was stretching it), and he was so very _very_ sexy without a shirt. Raven had a penchant for the misunderstood. Malchior had obviously been a mistake, but maybe X was different (of course he was different. He had a child and a life and he was dying. They were worlds apart in terms of "different"). That would be if Cãe even thought of her that way.

He could, couldn't he? The way she caught him staring sometimes… she knew she looked nothing like his late wife. Star actually had more in common with Elise, being tall, red-headed, and owning a pair of green eyes. Cãe had once confided that looking at Starfire sometimes made him sick with saudade (and he'd gone into a long explanation about the meaning of that particular word, leaving Raven with a sense of longing and sadness and wishing she'd just googled the damn term), and so maybe it was a good thing she didn't resemble Rachel's mother.

Oh God, of course there'd been that day when Rachel had asked if Raven would be her mamãe, when Cãe had watched her, and Raven had swallowed the lump in her throat. She put down her book and invited the little one into her lap.

"When I was little, my mom died, too, and I had an aunt named Azar that I loved very much." Not an aunt in the traditional sense, but certainly in a sense Rachel would understand. Azar had been like family. "I once asked her to be my mom. You know what she said?"

"What?"

"There is no need to replace those we have lost. Our hearts have no limits."

"They don't?"

"They don't." She had patted the red curls and caught Cãe's eyes from across the room. She could feel the affection, could feel the hurt and pain and the conflicting emotions, and then the walls came back up.

The late nights with the lab-rats were the hardest, and she'd only been able to allocate three days to it. But it drained her so completely she often found herself asleep before much progress had been made.

Like tonight. Another long day of training (she had Sundays off; Red-X was a practicing Catholic, who would've thought?) and she was on her bed, monitoring Loki—he'd been the first rat to survive, and she'd been watching Thor during the process—when she'd fallen unconscious. She had awoken to find Cãe easing her into bed, taking care only to remove her shoes, and tucking her in. Unguarded, thinking she was asleep, he allowed tenderness and something that meant just a little bit more seep through his usually impenetrable walls.

He was fond of her, at least, and that was something.

* * *

**que coisa mimada: what a spoiled thing**

**Saudade: a unique Galician-Portuguese word that has no immediate translation into English. "Saudade" describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone.. It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. It's related to the feelings of longing, yearning.**

**I know, I know, it's just a sort of transition chapter. Not much happened, but it needed to be written, and I ended up liking it quite a bit.**

**How long has it been since I've updated? I feel like it's been too long. Sorry, everyone, I was getting ready for a month long trip. Visiting my family in Brazil! And damn it's cold. My fingers are so stiff that typing is taking almost twice as long as it usually does. And then I have my OUaT stuff, so that's... I think those poor people are about to throttle me. Anyways. As always, thank you for reading, and please leave feedback!**


	9. Chapter 9

Interrogation Tactics

Chapter Nine

* * *

He was taking her out. It was a large affair, having more to do with building her cover, but it still fed her romantic sensibilities (she was in possession of such a thing. Powerful she may be, but she was still only nineteen, and she was most definitely _not _asexual, no matter what the tabloids said). She hadn't needed to go shopping; Star had taken care of buying her senselessly elaborate things before she left, and that had included cocktail gowns. The girl hadn't yet been able to discern between what was appropriate for everyday wear and what wasn't. Raven couldn't blame her, though, because the alien had only ever had a demonic fashion-apathetic super-hero for a female confidante. She got ready hours in advance, nervous and fretting and reminding herself to keep breathing. Sometimes, the melancholy that stole over her was so overwhelming… melancholy over a faux date, of all things. But she couldn't help the churning of her stomach, the memories of Malchior that colored every interaction with Cãe

The dress hit her mid-thigh and was a dark blue. A cream colored sash made an elegant bow in the back, and a velvet black bolero covered her arms. She had not done anything with her hair, and the still shorts-clad Cãe looked her up and down. "You need to have your nails done. And something with your hair. Why are you ready so early?"

"I'm sorry?" She'd be lying if she had said that hadn't stung. As to why she was ready, she had no idea. She'd been nervous and he had given her the day off from training to get ready, and so she did.

In the end, he had taken her to a salon and awkwardly sat in the waiting area while Rachel asked, "Why is tia getting her hair done? Can I have my hair done, too, daddy? I want pink nail polish like Raven, daddy. Can I, daddy?" In the end, she had won, sitting beside Raven and getting her nails done. It would have been cute if Raven didn't feel so raw. There was no reason, for it, she knew, yet she was very hurt and very angry. And he was oblivious to it. Sometimes, men could be so careless with words.

He made up for it that night as she came down in the same clothes she had worn earlier, her hair partially pinned and her fingertips gleaming with a pretty French polish. Raven asked him if she was pretty enough. It was sarcastic and a little bitter, startling him. He took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. "You're always beautiful. This is just a mask, linda, for your cover, that's all," he said, his head still bowed over her hand. She flushed a brilliant shade of red, and he winked up at her before straightening.

He did not, however, let go of her hand until he led her to a red jaguar that she had never before seen. Well, it seemed not all the money went to help the neighborhood children. This made her like him a little better. It was good to know he wasn't so perfect. Argh. Guh. The thoughts in her head were turning to senseless nonsense and she had a part to play tonight!

Raven knew now was not the time for petulance. She was a professional; she knew what she was doing. She deflated as he helped her into the passenger seat. Professionalism had gone out the window when she'd sent him that first note. It had only been downhill from there.

"I've never been to the opera." She needed to make conversation.

"You'll be fine. Just don't clap in between the movements or talk too much."

"I know."

He looked over at her and shrugged. He obviously did not have the patience to deal with a snippy (_bitchy, I'm being a bitch, and he didn't even mean it and he called me beautiful_) Raven, and decided instead to ignore her snippiness (_bitchiness_).

They arrived at the theatre and he helped her out of the car, relinquishing his keys to a very young (compared to Cãe, but he was actually Raven's age or thereabouts) valet boy. She took his arm graciously and they entered. It was quite a statement. A mysterious man and woman—Red-X had never been unmasked, and with her hair glamour gone and Cãe's insistence that she take some more sun, the Dark Titan was unrecognizable (the bangs also definitely helped)—entering a function that, this night at least, was frequented by the wealthy… well, it made a bit of a commotion. Opening nights generally did, and what Cãe had done to get an invitation, Raven did not want to know.

She, especially, was a sight. He was gorgeous, as always, but had made sure she would be the shining event. He swiped two champagne flutes from a passing waitress and handed one to her. They clinked glasses, smiled, and drank. She conveniently forgot to mention she was underage. She also, rather inconveniently, forgot to tell him she was a bit of a lightweight.

Just a little bit.

As in, one glass of champagne light-weight. The alcohol just didn't mix well with whatever blood she had (a devout Catholic Red-X being the one to tell her demons were something else entirely, and she was certainly not a demon, just an extra-dimensional alien as opposed to an extra-terrestrial one. She wasn't sure quite how much he was deluding himself, but it was a nice thought, anyways). Also, she _liked_ the taste. Liked wine and cheese and grapes , or even just sipping the finer vintages. She was a little bit spoiled, and she blamed Azar for it. But Azar had always been there to soothe the drunkenness away.

She wasn't violent. Just loud and silly and she looked so much younger than she actually was. Looser and more open and just a little more flirtatious. But that was one glass. Cãe didn't really realize what he was doing; the Brazilian culture was more accepting of alcohol and generally, children drank at home. The mistake really wasn't all that obvious until Raven fell asleep beside him, missing the entire show (_La Traviata_). Tragically enough, she had been so very excited. The strategically disastrous part was now that she had shown herself to be very drunk and very affectionate on the arm of what looked to be a very wealthy bachelor, how in the saint's names were they going to convince anyone that she was an up and coming star in the trafficking of human goods?

He had a back-up plan, of course he had a back-up plan, he was fucking Red-X, but this was going to make everything so much more complicated. As he supported a very tipsy and sleepy Raven back to his car, he cursed everything. This suddenly felt like him wasting his time chasing one last adventure with a pretty young woman and not spending enough time with his daughter.

Fear. He was terrified of death, and driving home, Raven told him, "No need to be afraid."

Shit. She couldn't stay awake when drunk, but she could read him like a book.

"I'm sorry I made you mad. But you'll see. I'll make you all better, I promise."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm being tricksy with the lab-rats. Haha. Tricksy? Because of Loki?"

She wasn't making any sense.

"But it'll be fine. Rachel will keep her daddy, you'll see. I can beat cancer. I can beat anything. And I like you. You're nice. And Rachel needs her daddy. And we need to fight the bastards. Haha. They're the bastards. I'm not, you know. A bastard, I mean. I'm not. I'm legit."

He was trying to process her words when it hit him. He slammed the breaks on the car and stopped on the side of the highway. He was not sure if he was angry at her for knowing, or if it was just now that he found out all those dead lab-rats she buried every morning before Rachel could wake up were all attempts to help him. It didn't matter. He was furious either way.

"What the hell, Cãe? What was that?" She gasped, holding on to the sides of the car.

He steadied his breathing, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned to her. The fire in his eyes frightened her, and if she hadn't been so out of it, she wouldn't be shrinking into the side of the door.

"We need to talk."

* * *

**Yeah, I know, cliffhanger and all that. Well, he had to find out at some point. I don't know what this chapter is, and so I apologize...**

**In response to a question by an anon: reviews allow the writer to know what the audience likes or dislikes, what the writer is doing correctly, what the writer is doing badly. Mostly, a well-thought out review (or even a squee) cheers us up. A review that is loaded with constructive criticism is also amazing, because it lets us know you respect us enough to go through the trouble of letting us know, so we can get better. That's all. Reviews are like presents. In our mailbox. Our virtual mailbox. :D**

**Anyways, review or don't. I like this story, and will continue to update chapters. Though I may neglect it and everything else for a while. I have a Holocaust AU for my other fandom that's consuming my brain.**

**Also, I just wanted to say Red-X/Raven is my Titans OTP. I don't know why. It just is. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was hard to write, but I think I gave the story a little more momentum, and also myself some more momentum.**


	10. Chapter 10

Interrogation Tactics

* * *

Chapter Ten

* * *

Raven was too intoxicated to read the emotions rolling off of Cãe, but she had enough presence of mind to know this was serious

"Why'd we stop," she asked, her voice low.

He set his mouth in a hard line, looking at her in... yes, that was hope. That was too strong not to notice, whatever else he was hiding.

"You can beat cancer?" He asked.

She swallowed. Well, then. "I can try," she whispered. And that was the truth, really; as confident as she was becoming that she could do something about this, she could only try. And not yet, certainly not yet. She needed to practice for at least another two weeks, but then he might not have that long. It was too complicated. Things were too fuzzy, and all she wanted was to sleep. "I'm, uh, not too good at it, yet. I've had some success, but not enough that I would feel comfortable trying to, you know, experiment on you." She swallowed, her hands clammy and shaking. "You weren't supposed to know, yet." The silence from his side unnerved her.

He was thinking, breathing, his nostrils flaring as his head fell back. His Adam's apple jutted from his throat, and Raven got the inappropriate urge to kiss his neck. She always wanted to touch him, but this was different. She could do it. She could move over to his seat and kiss him like a drunken adolescent; she could do it and blame the alcohol. Oh, she wanted to, and she was so grateful when he spoke. "When was I supposed to know."

That was an easy question to answer, and yet the words stuck in her throat. "I... I was planning on telling you when I had more than a ninety-five percent success rate every session. I don't want to kill you. Didn't want to give you false hope." Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

"Then why did you tell me," he said.

The emptiness in his voice broke her and she could feel the tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know. I just started talking. I don't really... I should have told you; I shouldn't drink alcohol."

His eyebrows furrowed and she bowed her head in response. She felt young and stupid, like this. Young and stupid and out of her depth; what had she been thinking? "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes avoiding him.

"Let's go home. You need to sleep. Just..." His voice trailed off and she lifted her head.

"Just?" She urged.

"What's your success rate?"

"Seventy-three point zero four percent," she answered. She was so close. So close.

"Tell me when you get to ninety-five percent. And let me help if I can," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"Okay," she agreed, wrapping her arms around herself. She heard the click of his seatbelt and his tuxedo jacket floated unto her.

"And next time, don't drink. Not during operations, not if you can't handle it." There was frustration behind his voice, but the bite of it was gone. She assented before nodding off to sleep.

She woke up in her bed the next morning, her face wiped of makeup and the line in her hair removed, but her gown had remained untouched. Wiping the bleariness from her eyes and trying to ignore her headache, last night came back in a rush of images and she wanted to die of embarrassment. She swung her legs out of the bed, padding toward the bathroom. Spending the night in a gown was unpleasant, but the alternative would have been worse. She looked a mess.

She unzipped the gown and let it puddle at her feet, stepping out of it. It made her feel luxurious and lovely, despite the aching in her head and the tiredness in her eyes. She relieved herself quickly, eager for a shower. She wold abstain from working out today. Today would be a day for working on his cure; the energy she could save this week if she didn't work out could put her over the edge, help her concentrate, raise the rats' survival rates.

The water poured down her body as she planned out her week. Yes, it was just a matter of time.

* * *

I apologize in the length of time between updates. I was recently diagnosed with a condition, and school took priority. To those of you still with me, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope to update more frequently now that the semester is dying down.


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